


Where is your boy, tonight?

by lucifucker



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Bullying, Highschool AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sloppy Makeouts, because i can and fuck you there's like no trohley out there i do what i want, but then happies, but theres a creepy vibe, it doesnt even really come close to happening, its great guys really, like it doesnt happen, sads, so im alerting you, very very mild rape/noncon warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:26:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifucker/pseuds/lucifucker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It stands to reason that, as a senior, Andy should be the one who heroically rescues people from being beaten up behind the gym. </p>
<p>a short andy/joe bullying fic.</p>
<p>read the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where is your boy, tonight?

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, rough around the edges, but I tried, which is what counts? Reviews are love, be nice.

It stands to reason that, as a senior, Andy should be the one who heroically rescues people from being beaten up behind the gym. If we’re going by John Hughes movie standards, that makes perfect sense.

 

But Andy is 5’ 6” of too-shy and too-small, and he’s not in any place to be rescuing anyone as he’s getting thrown up against the wall, wincing when his head hits the brick with a sickening thunk.

 

“You wanna fuckin’ go, Hurley?” Dane Becker asks, shoving him, again, and Andy just looks at the ground. He’s known since middle school that the best way to deal with conflict is to hide from it, which, to be fair, is probably not the best philosophy, but it’s worked so far.

 

Andy doesn’t know what it is about him that makes Dane so angry. It might be the fact that they’re different, it might be the fact that, despite his best efforts, Dane is still never going to be as smart as everyone says Andy is. It might be the fact that Andy’s gay, he really doesn’t know, there are too many reasons for this guy to hate him for him to pick one.

 

“We’re gonna be late, Dane.” He mumbles, and the older boy laughs.

“What, you’re gonna pussy out on me, now?” Andy swallows thickly, and keeps his eyes trained on the floor, and resolutely does not move a muscle. He hears Becker make a noise that resembles disgust, deep in his throat, and then watches him turn away.

 

Andy’s shoulders relax, and he finally looks up just in time to catch a right hook to the cheek. He sags against the wall to the sound of Dane’s friends laughter, gritting his teeth.

 

“Fuckin’ faggot.”

 

-0-

 

He gets to AP US and immediately asks to go to the bathroom. His teacher looks more surprised than she should, but that’s mostly because Andy’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s ever asked her for anything.

 

He inspects himself in the mirror and discovers that there’s already a shiner spreading across his cheek, and a small cut from where Dane’s ring caught on his skin. He runs his fingers through his hair until it falls over his face, and fuck, even he can admit that that looks dumb as hell, but it’s better than getting asked about it, so he goes back to class, and subsequently to lunch, with his hair covering his cheek. Patrick and Pete are too busy throwing sweet potato fries at each other to notice, thank god, but Joe, stupid, sweet, kinda-perfect Joe, notices and reaches out, jabbing him in the shoulder.

“Hey. Doofus.” He says softly, gracing Andy with that dumb crooked smile. “What’s up with the emo-hair?” Andy shrugs, and Joe slides his hand down, twining their fingers together behind Andy’s milk carton. They don’t talk about it, what they do. They hold hands. They fuck, sometimes. Joe gets caught in the girls locker room with cheerleaders, and gets detention. It’s a thing. So Andy figures, there’s no obligation for him to tell the truth. Even if it stings.

“Didn’t feel like tying it back.” Joe stares at him for a second, and then shrugs before stealing one of Pete’s tots, and receiving a fry to the nose.

 

Andy lets out a soft sigh of relief.

-0-

 

The day goes from bad to worse when, in PE, Brian,  some guy from band, runs up to Joe, and asks him if he’s dating Brendon Urie, which he isn’t, because Brendon and Ryan have been together since day one of freshman  year, but Andy still waits to see Joe’s response.

 

Joe says ‘no’ and the guy asks who, then?

 

Without any sort of pause, Joe just says “Not really into anybody, right now. Just focusing on me, you know?”

 

Andy misses the basket entirely and the ball bounces off the wall.

 

-0-

It’s not until later, when they get home, that keeping his hair in front of his face becomes a problem, because as soon as they’re inside Andy’s room, Joe’s crowding him against the door, and biting into his neck, and Andy doesn’t even think before he lets his head fall back, and his hair slides down to reveal the black and blue mark blossoming over his cheekbone.

 

Joe freezes, doesn’t move a muscle, and Andy does the same, looking down to meet the younger boy’s eyes as Joe’s fingers come up, gently grazing over the broken skin.

 

“Andy…” He says softly, and Andy has to close his eyes for a second because this hurts, not the hand on his cheek, but the fact that Joe’s acting like it matters fucking hurts. Because they’re friends. They’re friends, and they care about each other, but not as much as Joe’s pretending to right now.

 

“I’m fine.” He mutters, and Joe snorts, leans forward to inspect his cheek more thoroughly. Andy shoves him back.

 

“Andy, come on.” He shakes his head, and looks at the floor, inspecting a boot that’s gotten half-pushed under the bed.

“It’s fine. I tripped.” Joe crosses his arms.

“You ‘tripped’.”

“I tripped, Joe, people trip.” Joe shakes his head, and looks at his feet.

“Andy, don’t lie. You’re a shit liar.” And that makes something inside Andy flare up, because this isn’t fair.

“Look, just leave it, okay?”

“No, it’s not o--” Joe starts to say something that’ll probably make this worse, so Andy cuts him off, his hands curling into fists.

“Joe, we’re not dating, okay?” He blurts out, and Joe stops, and shit, his face is doing that thing it does right before he starts crying, and Andy would know, Andy’s seen it, watched Joe break down in tears after Dianna dumped him three years ago, scared, and alone, and too emotional to move, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stop. Joe glares at him and takes a step forward.

“What are you--”

“We’re not dating.” He says again, with finality. “Don’t make my shit into something you can fixate on because you feel bad. You don’t have to pretend to give a shit.” Its rough, but it’s true, Andy’s never had any illusions about who cares more about who. He’s loved Joe since he was twelve, and he knows that on some level Joe loves him, too, but not...the way he wants it, and not in the way he’s pretending to.

 

And the words are definitely coming out harsher than he wants them to, but Joe’s backing off, looking at Andy with those stupid sad eyes, and it’s all Andy can do not to scream, because he loves this asshole too fucking much.

 

If he’s waiting for Joe to blow up, for anything earth-shattering to happen, he’s sorely disappointed. Because instead, what he gets is Joe staring at him for long moment, and then nodding.

“Okay.” He says, and Andy feels like he’s going to puke as Joe steps around him and walks out the door, shutting it behind him.

 

Andy slides down the wall onto the floor, and sobs.

 

-0-

 

They don’t talk for a week after that, and it’s weirder than Andy had ever anticipated, because not only is he not used to not being with Joe, he’s not used to Joe not being with him, if that makes sense. Wherever he is, Joe’s always there. At lunch, in Gym, in the hallways, always finding Andy wherever he is, if only for a second. But now, Andy’s walking from class to class, and for the first time since freshman year, he’s completely, utterly alone.

 

On Monday,  Joe doesn’t show up for lunch.

 

On Tuesday, he shows up, but he sits at the opposite end of the cafeteria, doesn’t look Andy’s way once while he talks animatedly with Brendon and Ryan about...something. And it’s not that Andy doesn’t love Brendon and Ryan, it’s just that right now he kind of wishes they’d die.

 

On Wednsday, Pete demands to know what’s going on, and Andy just says something along the lines of ‘we got in a fight’. Which isn’t strictly untrue, although a fight suggests that more than one person was creating conflict, and that was definitely not what happened.

 

But he’s not going to go bother Joe. If Joe wants space, or...nothing at all anymore, that makes sense. Andy wouldn’t want to put up with himself, so why would Joe?

 

-0-

 

It’s not until the following Monday that anything happens. And when it does, it’s...explosive, to say the least.

 

He’s walking to the library today, instead of eating lunch, because now it’s basically just sitting in silence while Patrick and Pete make eyes at each other across the table and occasionally glance awkwardly at him, and then suddenly he’s not in a hallway, he’s in the bathroom, and there are more guys in here than there should be, like, six or seven, and Dane, fuck, Dane is standing over him, sneering down and crossing his arms.

 

“What’s up, Girly Hurley?” He asks, and Andy can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Dane, we’re not in fourth grade anymore. Stop calling--” He’s silenced by a fist to his stomach, and he doubles over, because fuck, Pete definitely makes that look a lot less painful than it is.

“See, the problem here, Hurley, is that you’re still around, and every time I look at you I get this sick feeling in my stomach.” Dane snarls, and Andy clamps his mouth shut as he’s tugged back up by his hair, glaring up at the older boy with tears filling his eyes in spite of his best efforts. “So I figure, if I do this enough, you’ll get the message, and stop showing up where I can see you, right?” Andy bites the inside of his cheek, and blinks back the wetness, curling his hands into fists.

 

This is the reason that Joe’s gone. This asshole is the reason he can’t even look at Joe anymore without wanting to fucking die. All because he has a problem with Andy. And that’s the biggest load of shit that Andy’s ever heard.

 

“Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?” He shouts, and it’s weird to shout, because he’s not actually sure he’s ever done it before, but Dane looks about as surprised as he is, so that helps.

 

Well, it helps for a second, until Dane and his friends start laughing, and Andy’s shoved up against the wall, again.

 

“You even scream like a girl, Hurley.” Dane hisses, and he’s stepping closer, and closer, and he’s got a hand on Andy’s side, and why is that hand sliding down?

 

Andy jerks away from the touch, but he’s surrounded on every side by six foot tall jocks, and they’re all smiling like this is the best thing that’s ever happened, and he can’t do this, can’t deal with this, needs it to stop--

 

And stop it does. The door bangs open, and someone shouts something, Andy’s not sure what, but it echoes through the entire bathroom. He watches Dane’s eyes widen, and then watches the idiot get tugged back, but not before somehow managing to slam Andy’s head into the wall with a sickening crack. Slumped on the floor, though, he actually has a pretty good view through the legs all around him of what’s going on.

 

Someone’s got Dane on the floor, and is sitting astride him, pummeling punch after punch into his rapidly degrading face. There’s blood spurting from his nose, and his jaw has made a weird, probably bad popping sound, but this guy just keeps laying into him, and it takes Andy a good long minute to realize that he knows that stupid fluffy hair and faded denim jacket. He continues to sit and watch Joe as he breaks every bone in Dane’s face, until one of the other guys on the football team manages to pull him off, and get Dane up, narrowly dodging another punch as he does so.

 

It’s at this point that Andy notes with surprise that Dane is not the only one sporting blood, although none of the rest of them have gotten quite so much on their shirts, and as they all scramble out of the room, he immediately feels hands on his cheeks, stupidly long fingers and calloused palms that are more gentle than anything he’s ever felt, and before he can say or do anything else, he’s in Joe’s arms, with his face pressed into his chest, and his arms wrapped as tightly as they can possibly be around Joe’s waist.

“Joe.” He gasps, and he didn’t even realize he was crying, didn’t notice until now that there are tears pouring down his cheeks because that was by far the least important thing on his mind.

“I’ve got you.” Comes the response, and it’s raspy and quiet, and so very, very Joe, and Andy can’t help but laugh.

“You found me.” He breathes, and gets a chuckle in response, which reverberates around the room as though it would a cave.

“Course I did. You didn’t show up for lunch.” Andy shakes his head, and pulls back, puzzled.

“But you didn’t...you were with Bren and Ryan.” The words come out kind of staggered, and he trips over more syllables than he’s happy to admit, but hey, he’s fucking sobbing, so he figures he gets a pass. Joe’s thumbs graze over his cheeks, wiping away the tears while still managing to avoid irritating the still-healing bruise.

“What, and that meant I wasn’t watching you?” He asks, raising his eyebrows, “I’m always watching you, doofus, I wouldn’t have just left.” And he’s grinning down at Andy, like Andy’s the sun, and he’s never fucking seen it before. Like Andy’s his whole world. And then it clicks.

 

Before he can think himself out of it, Andy surges up, and catches Joe’s lips in a kiss.

 

But this is different. Completely different. Because before, it’s always been about the thrill, it’s been pushing each other up against walls, it’s been Andy’s fingers curled tight in Joe’s hair and Joe’s thumbs leaving bruises on Andy’s arms, and their kisses have only ever been hard, and fast, and done with purpose. This is soft, and sweet, and Andy hums into Joe’s mouth as his hands travel down, resting gently on the sides of his neck, and he didn’t realize he was in Joe’s lap until now, because now he’s wrapping his legs around Joe’s waist, and Joe’s arms are sliding down around his back, and it’s quiet, and kind, and perfect.

 

“I love you.” Andy mumbles, unable to keep the words in, and Joe’s answering smile is more than enough, means more than a thousand words could, but it’s still so fucking satisfying to hear.

  
“I love you, too.”


End file.
